A Brother's Prayer
by ClaraNoblePond
Summary: "Please don't let my brother die, please don't let my brother die..." Young Dean Winchester didn't know if he believed in a God. But if there was one, he just hoped the guy would be willing to help out.


**I lay no claim to _Supernatural _or its characters. Hope you enjoy!**

Dean was praying.

He was knelt by the cheap motel bed that his little brother was now lying on, whispering words so quietly that only Sam could've heard them, if Sam'd been awake.

"Please don't let my brother die, please don't let my brother die..."

Neither of them had seen the werwolf coming. And while Dean had been able to shoot it before it'd gone in for the bite, it had managed to make a few vital gashes in Sam before collapsing on the ground. At first Sam'd looked okay, stumbling back to Dean as fast as his awkwardly growing frame could take him. But then he'd collapsed and Dean had come running.

Their Dad wouldn't be back for another hour at least, and even though Dean wasn't that old, he'd learned from a very young age that hospitals were usually out of the question.

But what if Dad didn't know what to do? What if Sammy... what if he...

"Please don't let my brother die, please don't let my brother die..."

Dean had never thought about whether he believed in God or not. It just wasn't something he considered important. Killing monsters, keeping Sammy safe and impressing his father was all that was really on the twelve-year-old's mind. And while he'd certainly accomplished the first, it was increasingly beginning to look like he'd failed at the other two.

Why had he even let Sam come with him? He had known they were hunting a pack, he had known it was dangerous - but Sam had just looked so tired of being cooped up, and he'd thought that maybe, just _maybe,_ they could go five feet without getting attacked. But he should've known. He should've known.

Dean didn't know if he believed in a God. But if there was one, he just hoped that the guy would be willing to help out.

"Please, help me..."

Suddenly, everything started to shake, and a high-pitched noise resonated around the room. The broken clock fell off the lopsided table, and Dean clung to the wiry bed for dear life as the walls rattled around him. But his terror was quickly replaced by hope.

_Angels,_ he thought, not really sure how he had made the connection, but somehow knowing it was right. _He must've sent angels._

As soon as Dean thought this, all the disruption stopped. The only things that moved in the room now were Sam, quickly breathing in his troubled daze, Dean, who was still shaking a little, and the mass of light that was shining from the leftmost corner of the room.

Dean'd thought that there'd be fluffy wings, an angelic face, and maybe a harp.

This angel, if it was an angel, possessed none of these qualities. There were wings, yes, but they were not material things - rather it was suggested that they were there, hanging low in the confining room. Dean couldn't see a face, if there even was a face, through the bright blue light that was bursting from the form. But though the light should've blinded him, Dean found he could see perfectly well.

"Well, would you look at that. You can see my true form." The words came in a strong, higher-pitched voice from the mass in front of Dean.

"Y - Your true form?" Dean managed to say, not sure whether to be scrambling for his gun or staring in awe. Even if this was an angel, it didn't look like the selfless, caring savior Dean had had in mind. But for the moment, he was forced to settle for the latter course of action due to his sheer shock.

Though Dean still couldn't distinguish any facial features, he could've sworn that the angel - whatever it was - smiled.

"Only certain people can see an angel's true form," replied the voice, seeming to come from all sides. "And you, Dean Winchester, are one of those lucky few. You and I, we share a - connection. A very special, important connection. But it is not important right now. Though it will be."

"You know my name?" Dean said, trying his best to hide the quiver in his voice. Monsters he could handle. But this was something entirely new - something truly alien.

"Of course I do, Dean. You are the one who called me, after all."

"Well," Dean said, attempting to give a show of strength, "if you know my name, I get to know yours - don't I?"

Again, Dean sensed that smile. But instead of answering his question, the angel merely moved over to Sam, spreading the blue light over the young boy's unconscious body. Dean instinctively moved to shield his brother, but he felt that the angel was staring him down and slowly retreated back a few steps instead.

"He - he was attacked by a werwolf..."

"Do not worry, Dean," the voice responded, the light beginning to come close to Sam. "I know just what to do."

And then the blue began to bleed into Sam, enveloping him in the tinted light. Dean could only watch as the light worked itself in and out of Sam's various wounds, healing them instantly and without effort, erasing any sign that Dean's brother had ever been attacked. In fact, when the light receded and its work was done, Sam looked better than he had in months, and Dean saw a slight smile form on his now contently sleeping brother's face.

The angel light took its position back in the corner, wing shadows spreading across the dull walls as it did so. Dean went to Sam and looked him over.

"I trust that you are satisfied?"

"Yes. Yes, I - thank you," Dean said, whirling around to face the angel. "I don't know what I would've done if - if..."

"Little brothers are our responsibility," said the angel, its voice more quiet and low, like it was murmuring rather than talking. "It's our job to protect them, to save them from the evil in this world. And yet the world keeps fighting back. How are we supposed to protect them from so much darkness? We can't."

"But I have to," replied Dean, drawn by the angel's words. "He's my little brother. Are you a big brother, too?"

The angel paused. "Indeed I am. And though I have kept safe many little brothers, there is one I lost long ago - long ago."

"I'm sorry."

Dean's vision became clouded with blue as the angel drew itself up in front of Dean. "It is not your fault," it said, sounding confused.

"That doesn't mean I can't be sorry." Dean said, wondering why the angel had come so close.

Before he could wonder any more, however, Dean felt himself being lifted up, put in bed next to Sam, and tucked in - something he hadn't experienced since his Mom had died.

"Sleep now, Dean," said the angel's voice, and suddenly Dean found it hard to keep his eyes open.

As Dean drifted off into sleep, he could hear the angel whisper in his ear, in his mind, in his heart, "My name is Michael. And we shall meet again very soon, my Sword, my fellow big brother."


End file.
